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I love the scenery on the drive to work. (Not so fond of the other drivers but 'eh'.)
The sky is particularly magnificent, with the sun rising in the north-east as the road swings around and down, boiling the clouds before it until their edges glow with fire. In turn, the clouds sweep forth across the sky, propelled by the threat of fiery doom, sending puffy tendrils ahead of them, like the wings of unseen angels portending a coming storm.
There was a 19thC Romantic artist who used to paint incredible skies. (There were probably several.) I can't remember if it was Turner or Constable, but one of them (possibly another one) lived in Australia for years, painting the sky over and over and over.
I understand why. The sky over Sydney is always magnificent, whether it's a windy dawn or a still dusk, whether the sky is the intense azure of midsummer or the brushed-and-burnished clouded steel of midwinter.
And now, to work. It's gonna be a long day.
The sky is particularly magnificent, with the sun rising in the north-east as the road swings around and down, boiling the clouds before it until their edges glow with fire. In turn, the clouds sweep forth across the sky, propelled by the threat of fiery doom, sending puffy tendrils ahead of them, like the wings of unseen angels portending a coming storm.
There was a 19thC Romantic artist who used to paint incredible skies. (There were probably several.) I can't remember if it was Turner or Constable, but one of them (possibly another one) lived in Australia for years, painting the sky over and over and over.
I understand why. The sky over Sydney is always magnificent, whether it's a windy dawn or a still dusk, whether the sky is the intense azure of midsummer or the brushed-and-burnished clouded steel of midwinter.
And now, to work. It's gonna be a long day.